Reflections of Darkness
by Parody-of-an-Angel
Summary: Sometimes even the strongest light can be swallowed by shadows


_**Reflections of Darkness**_

_**Parody-of-an-Angel**_

Summary – Sometimes even the strongest light can be swallowed by the shadows

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He stood, a lone survivor, silhouetted against the blackened ruins of a world led astray. A world in which many had succumbed to the seductive and alluring temptations of evil and in doing so had doomed an entire race to death. Juxtaposed to this bleak landscape, a blood red sunset sunk low on the horizon, signifying the end of an era. Soon the morning sun would dawn on a new world, one of darkness and malicious intent, where witches, wizards and muggles alike would suffer cruelly for no reason under their enemies, while they stood by and laughed.

The days of peace and happiness, when children laughed and smiled, when the sun shone brightly down on the world and when nobody had to live in the shadow of fear, never knowing who they could trust were gone. Those days seemed so far away to the man now; they were part of the distant past. It was the future now and it would not do to dwell on such memories.

The War may be over, but it was not the light who had won and those killed in action were luckier than the survivors, who would be hunted down and tortured for sport. They would have an excruciatingly slow demise, drawn out so long that most would go mad from the sheer pain and terror of it.

The men and boys would be jeered and spat at, even forced to fight each other to the death in a crude, barbaric gladiator stadium where lions would also be released. The women and girls would be used over and over again until they had grown too thin to be pleasurable anymore, whereupon they would be killed in new and different ways each time, their captors delighting in their screams of anguish.

"_We are all Prisoners of War now," _the man thought sadly to himself. Locked up in detention camps much like in the days of Hitler, people were killed at random and made to dig their own graves beforehand.

The man couldn't pinpoint where and when it had all gone wrong as it had all occurred so suddenly. People had been aware of Voldemort's return after the incident at the Ministry of Magic, but hadn't really taken it seriously. That was their first fatal mistake. Even when Death Eater attacks started to rise in both number and degree, they chose to remain blissfully and idiotically ignorant, thinking that it wouldn't affect them or their lives. The Ministry eventually had to take action, but even they, those on the inside, didn't take it seriously enough, only sending out defence booklets.

Everyone had put their faith in Harry Potter, the boy who had lived – too much faith. They never paused to think about the fact that he was only a boy. True, a determined and brave one, but all the same, one who was still struggling to come to terms with his destiny. They never thought about what they would do if he didn't prevail and defeat the Dark Lord. Didn't think about the fact that the Dark Lord might very well be the one to defeat him instead. Didn't think about what they would do then.

The day of the Final Battle had been the 18th of November. There was nothing conspicuous or abnormal about the date, nothing to suggest that it would be the day when all things changed for the worst. The sun dawned bright and early as it had been doing for centuries and people went about their normal lives. If you had looked closely though, you would have realised that a great many people were absent from work, home or wherever they were supposed to be.

At 2pm, the first of many screams to come rent the quiet and peaceful afternoon air. Around fifty muggles and wizards had been assaulted in a park near Derbyshire, black robed Death Eaters apparating from nowhere. Everyone had been confused at the location as it had been accepted that when Voldemort launched his final attack, it would be to storm either the Ministry or Hogwarts.

Voldemort had been clever in his planning though. While all the aurors and some staff were preoccupied at the park, Voldemort himself had set to the task of disabling the wards surrounding Hogwarts; all the staff being too busy to notice the tampering being done. From there on it been all too easy. Before anybody could comprehend what was happening, hundreds upon thousands of black robed witches and wizards had stormed the castle, more apparating from the park. They were followed, but by the time anyone got there, most of the students and staff on the ground floor had been killed.

Other students barricaded themselves into the Great Hall, but the Death Eaters ignored them and instead went in search of the 7th years and Harry Potter.

Those of the students who believed in Voldemort's cause joined the ranks of his followers, the original members conjuring extra robes. Students in this group consisted of most of the Slytherins, including Draco Malfoy and a few others from the other three houses.

By now everyone knew what was going on and the classes had locked themselves into their respective classrooms, Hagrid's class fleeing into the Forbidden Forest. Simple charms and locking spells were no use against this number of people though and the Death Eaters soon found what they were looking for in the Dungeons. Combined Gryffindor and Slytherin 7th year Advanced Potions.

Snape finally revealed his true colours and the Golden Trio stood to fight. Voldemort apparated into the room, the wards preventing it having been disabled and immediately singled out Harry Potter to fulfil the Prophecy. The young boy stood firm, his friends flanking him on either side, a ring around them having been cleared though the room was filled with fighting.

For all his luck, Harry Potter simply didn't have the skill needed to defeat the greatest Dark Lord since Grindelwald and he soon fell. His classmates, disheartened by this gave up and were soon overpowered, including Ron and Hermione.

The War didn't last long after that, the Death Eaters had just been too great in numbers, even cropping up amongst those who we thought could be treated, including some staff of Hogwarts and even members of the Order.

Just to spite us, when the battle was over and won, they raised Hogwarts to the ground, blasting it into a million pieces with some people still inside. The man was one of these, but miraculously or perhaps unfortunately he had survived.

The twinkle long absent from his eyes, Albus Dumbledore looked to the horizon wearily; the guilt of a thousand lives weighing heavily on his frail shoulders.

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